


We Can Do This

by FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jack 'chicken tender' Zimmerman, Pre-Relationship, post-NHL Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: Based on a prompt from shitty-check-please-aus:AU where Jack is a professional chef who only cooks chicken tenders, Bitty is a famous baker, and they get paired together for a cooking competition and have to make a full four-course meal.I didn't feel like writing a four-course meal so:Eric grabbed a bowl and started pulling things out of the small pantry, “I’ll just make sure the crust is nice and flakey and I’ll put a beautiful lattice on it and everything will be fine. Start dicing your chicken, Mr. Zimmerman. We just might be able to pull this off.”





	1. Chapter 1

Eric Richard Bittle has never been more furious in his life. He worked his ass off for years to get his bakery off the ground and jumped through all kinds of hoops to get on this stupid baking show to get exposure for his bakery which he’d probably have to close if he didn’t win this prize money. And he had been so sure. He’d been so, so sure that he would win. All he had to do was bake pies. That’s what they told him. Best pie wins $100k. End of story. Full stop. 

They lied. 

He made it to the final four by the skin of his teeth, but he was winning. Then their host announced round three. They’d be working in pairs, not with each other, and not even with other pastry chefs. They’d be working with the final four from some obscure cooking show that he’d never even heard of. 

Each new chef was introduced and to be completely honest the first three sounded pretty mundane. There was Steven who had an Italian Bistro in Boston after graduating from a prestigious culinary academy somewhere up north even though he was a single father. There Ryan who dropped out of an Engineering program, much to the chagrin of his parents, and was working as a sous-chef in Atlanta. Eric thought they couldn’t get much worse when Jeff was announced. Jeff ran a basketball -themed restaurant in California and talked more about basketball than his focus on American cuisine. He didn’t even talk about a specific team, just basketball as a sport in general. 

Eric was so sure that Jeff was the worst one he’d worry about having to get stuck with when Jack was announced. Jack was a retired NHL player so big Eric wasn’t entirely sure he’d fit in the small stations that they had, especially if they were supposed to be working around each other in the next round. More than that, it turned out that he does chicken tenders. Just chicken tenders. The boy has never cooked anything in his damn life besides chicken tenders. 

Eric froze and braced himself against his clean steel work bench. He could not end up working with Jack because, honestly, what the fuck. 

Their host announced that they would be picking their partners, and Eric let out a sigh of relief. She announced that they would be picking their partners in reverse order of their current standing, and Eric wished for the first time that his pies were a little less than perfect. He was in first, so he would pick last. 

Steve went first because Steve had his own Italian Bistro and it was pretty safe to assume that he had at least some idea of what to do with a pie. Then Ryan because he was a sous-chef in Atlanta and almost got an engineering degree, so he was, if nothing else, pretty smart. 

Eric’s second place competitor gave him a cruel side-eye as he picked Jeff and in that moment Eric wanted nothing more than to crawl into his own oven and die. He was stuck with giant, jock, Jack “I only cook toast and chicken tenders” Zimmerman, and if they couldn’t make a beautiful, delicious pie that presented both of their distinct cooking styles then Bitty’s Bakery was done for.

They were allowed 30 minutes to talk with their new partners and figure out what the hell they were going to do, then they’d have two hours to make their pie. 

Eric was not at his best as Jack pulled up a stool next to him at his work station. 

“Hi,” Jack said. 

“Mr. Zimmerman,” Eric greeted coldly, already jotting down notes for what kind of pie they could possibly do that incorporated fucking chicken tenders. 

“I’m, uh, not really used to being picked last for stuff,” Jack continued awkwardly. “I was pretty good at hockey before I messed up my knee, so…but I guess that doesn’t really help much in the kitchen, does it?”

Eric did his best not to sound too annoyed, “no, Mr. Zimmerman, it does not.” Apparently he didn’t succeed.

“Look, I know that this is going to be difficult and I get that you’re not thrilled about getting stuck with me, but we’ve got 20 minutes to make a plan so you can at least call me Jack.” 

Eric set his pen down and turned in his seat, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Jack, I’m not trying to be rude, I promise. I just—what the hell are we going to do with chicken tenders?” He turned frantically back to his papers. “I mean, I’m a pastry chef, I’m—are you absolutely sure you can’t good anything but chicken tenders?”

Jack shrugged, “I don’t see why I’d ever need to.” 

Eric almost choked when he said it, but they were running out of time and god damn it if he wasn’t going to try and pull out a win anyway. “Alright then. You can call me Eric and I guess you should start on your tenders and we’ll figure out what to do with ‘em.”  
\-----  
Jack went to work on his chicken tenders as soon as the start timer went off and Eric was frankly amazed at how well he worked in the small space. Eric started rolling out a basic pie crust and soon enough they had all the most basic elements of what would eventually be their pie and still no idea what to do with them. 

“Um… well does it have to be a dessert pie?”

Eric shook his head, “We could…um. I guess a chicken pot pie is technically a pie, right?”

Jack nodded, “I know that’s not really your style, but we could do that.” 

Eric grabbed a bowl and started pulling things out of the small pantry, “I’ll just make sure the crust is nice and flakey and I’ll put a beautiful lattice on it and everything will be fine. Start dicing your chicken, Mr. Zimmerman. We just might be able to pull this off.”


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Epilogue because I also needed to find out what happened.

The host announced the winner and the producer instructed the camera guys to get a few dramatic shots with more cash than Eric had ever seen in his life. He kept taking deep, even breaths even as tears threatened to spill over his cheeks as he forced a smile at the woman whose name he couldn’t remember because she got to expand her bakery and he had to close his. 

Bittle’s was done. Eric was done. 

Filming wrapped up a few hours later than he would’ve liked considering he wanted to crawl into bed and never leave the second he found out that he’d lost. He’d practically pulled a chicken pot pie out of his ass to get through to the next round and put out a strawberry-rhubarb with such a flakey, buttery crust that he thought Food Network might have to edit the judges’ reactions because the noises they made for his pie were so obscene. 

He made it to the final round, gone through all that, for nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. 

“Hey.” Eric turned around quickly. Today was too long and too exhausting for him to deal with anyone right now, but Jack looked so stupidly nervous for someone his size that figured he’d at least try. 

“Mr. Zimmerman,” he said, “sorry we couldn’t—“ his voice broke, “uh—don’t mind me, I’m just--we did our best, didn’t we? So, that’s what matters.” 

Jack nodded and edged closer, “yeah, we did. I just wanted to say goodbye because I’m about to head out.” 

Eric nodded politely, “well it was nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah definitely.” Jack agreed, “We finish up our show tomorrow, I think.” 

“Well, I sure hope that you have better luck than I did. Okay?” Eric turned to walk away but Jack grabbed his wrist, dropping it quickly when he looked back. 

“I was just thinking that maybe you could call me Jack.” He said, scratching nervously at the back of his neck, “and I was wondering if I could have your number, maybe? We could meet up sometime, if you want.”   
Eric felt like a mess, totally wrung out, and a little more than miserable. However, the day he was too miserable to give his number to a beautiful, blue eyed, ex-professional athlete was the day he gave up on life. 

Today was not that day. 

Eric plucked Jack’s phone out of his hands and put in his phone number, “give me a few days to recover from this mess and I’m all yours. Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their first big argument was over whether or not Jack could donate money to help Bittle's stay open (Bitty lost) and when Jack found out that Eric played hockey in college he lost his fucking mind.


End file.
